Crucified
Chapter
One
     
    An eerie
stillness settled over the sleepy hallow of Johnstown, Nova Scotia.
An empty swing creaked back and forth beckoning the town children
to play. Small shops littered either side of Main Street’s
cobblestone roadway—void of the usual hustle and bustle on a Sunday
morning.
    The rumble of
Taylor Danson’s beloved motorcycle reverberated through the
deserted streets.
    A picture of
young Casey Adams had been found on the post office bulletin board.
News of Preacher Adam’s pretty blonde daughter bound and gagged had
the townspeople in an uproar, and all fingers pointed directly at
him.
    Taylor had been
raked over the coals when she first disappeared. Now Chief Walker
requested his presence yet again, with a much too early phone call.
The general consensus—it had to be someone from town, and money
couldn’t be the motive. There were plenty of people around town
with more money than Preacher Adams. So Taylor became the official
fall guy, as he’d been deemed a few too many times in the past.
    He pulled up
out front of the police station…well, a police station of sorts. It
consisted of two rooms. One was where they locked up drunks who got
out of hand, and the other, where the chief and his ever-present
sidekick, Deputy Lucas, played cards and drank cheap Scotch.
    Since the auto
shop re-opened a year ago, he’d been called in and questioned at
least a half dozen times, suspect for minor break ins and
vandalism. It royally pissed him off being labeled a troublemaker.
He wished someone would have told him about the previous owner of
the auto Shop. Supposedly, the guy had been the epitome of a ‘bad
ass’ biker, wreaking havoc in the small town.
    Now Taylor was
pegged as the same type of guy, when nothing could be further from
the truth. With a heavy sigh, he lifted his leg over his bike.
    Chief Walker’s
oversized frame filled the doorway. “Sorry to bring you out so
early on your day off, Taylor.” He rocked back and forth on freshly
polished shoes. “You know how it is.”
    “ Unfortunately, I do. I hope you got the coffee on.”
    “ You bet I do.” Chief Walker opened the door and ushered him
inside.
    Deputy Lucas
chased dust around one of the cells with a rarely used broom. The
small cot had been made with fresh sheets and the smell of
furniture polish mixed with perking coffee replaced the usual aroma
of stale booze and sweat.
    “ Is it spring already?” Taylor laughed.
    “ Nope. They’re sending in a couple agents from the head office
to deal with Casey’s abduction.”
    Chief kept his
back to him, making it impossible for Taylor to gage his
reaction.
    “ You don’t say.” He folded his arms across his
chest.
    “ Yup.” He handed Taylor a cup of coffee and sat behind a
surprisingly clear desk. “I guess they figure this case is a bit
much for a small time chief and his deputy.”
    “ Sorry to hear that.”
    “ Don’t be. I’m happy to have the help. To be quite honest, I
don’t know where to begin looking for the poor kid.”
    “ So why am I here again?” The bitter coffee assaulted the back
of his throat and he grimaced. “Damn you make the worst
coffee.”
    Chief chuckled,
setting his belly in motion above a shiny belt buckle. “Let’s just
say it isn’t my drink of choice. It seems a few of the townsfolk
feel I haven’t asked you enough questions.” His gaze diverted
scrutiny.
    “ I’m getting pretty sick of being the fall guy around here.
When are they going to get it through their thick skulls, I’m
nothing like the biker who used to own my shop?”
    Chief Walker
shrugged. “If you just answer a couple questions, we can both get
on with our days.”
    “ You’re wasting your time, but shoot.” Taylor bobbed his leg up
and down.
    “ Where were you all day on Friday?”
    Taylor let out
a burst of air from his lungs and straightened in his seat. “I
already told you, I closed up shop around noon, like I always do on
Fridays, and went riding.”
    “

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